Venom
by HonorH
Summary: Buffy is stung by a demon, giving her friends--and a grumpy, hungover Spike--only 24 hours to save her (I *swear* I started this before"Normal Again" aired).
1. Stung

Disclaimer: Buffy & Co. belong to Joss, Marti, and a bunch of other brilliant, yet sadistic people. This story belongs to me. Kindly ask permission before using it (but let's face it—the odds of me turning you down are about 1000-1 against).

Note: This takes place post-"As You Were" and pre-"Hell's Bells."

Thanks: To my Darling Betas, Tanja, Gyrus, and Aurora. What would I do without you?

****

Venom

By

HonorH

"Hey! Over here, Big Ugly!"

Buffy, the Slayer, danced a few steps backward, swinging her favorite axe up into position. The creature she'd temporarily dubbed a "What-the-Hellbeast" snarled, whipping its spiny head around and crouching on all fours, glaring at Buffy with its blood-red eyes. It was a fairly big thing, about the size of a minivan, and was covered with armored scales. Its head, though, had a number of sharp spikes protruding from it, and its whip-like tail was tipped with another. A forked tongue flashed as it hissed at the Slayer tormenting it.

"That's better," Buffy said. "Your full attention should be on the little girl with the big axe. 'Cause if it's not . . ." The Slayer darted in, her axe shearing one of the spikes off the beast's head before she tucked and rolled smoothly out of the way of its vengeful tail. ". . . bad things can happen." The beast bellowed.

Adrenaline pumped as Buffy continued searching for any weakness. She'd had a close call earlier when her axe had almost stuck in one of the creature's scales. At the moment, using her small size and swiftness to keep the creature off its guard seemed the better part of valor.

Exciting, too, and Buffy didn't object to that. It figured the one night she could take extra time on patrol—Tara had taken Dawn to dinner and the university's production of "The Mikado"—would be the slowest night Buffy could remember. It was like all the demons had gone into hiding. No vampires, no demons, no nothing until she'd run afoul of this thing on her third sweep through the cemeteries.

"Are you one of those things that has a soft underbelly?" Buffy asked conversationally as the creature took a swipe at her with an oversized, clawed paw. "Don't suppose you'd roll over for me?" The tail whipped around again, and the Slayer jumped to avoid it. "Just a suggestion. No need to get all huffy. Besides, you could put someone's eye out with that thing. Hey, watch the gravestones!" The creature's hind feet demolished yet another headstone.

The What-the-Hellbeast struck at her with its claws again. This time, Buffy was forced to raise her axe to fend off the blow. The shaft promptly snapped in two.

"That was my favorite axe!" the Slayer protested. "You know, a girl could start to take offense at all this." She spotted something—a patch of what looked like unarmored skin near the base of the creature's throat. Gripping her foreshortened axe, Buffy dove in. She stabbed at the spot with the sharp tip of her axe.

Her sortie had the desired effect: brownish blood spurted from the wound, covering the axe-head. This time, as the beast howled, Buffy ducked almost underneath the thing's body, coming up again near its left flank.

"That's what we call 'hitting paydirt,'" she told the What-the-Hellbeast.

Insane with rage and pain, the creature wheeled toward the Slayer. Buffy nimbly skipped out of its way. Suddenly, though, it whirled in the opposite direction, whipping its tail along with it.

Fiery pain shot through the Slayer's body as the spiked tip of the tail struck home just above her belly button. Gasping, she retreated a few steps and tripped over a piece of broken gravestone. The beast's eyes narrowed as it found her.

The pain was excruciating, even worse than when Buffy had gotten stabbed in the belly with her own stake. It was all she could do to not pass out. Summoning the last of her strength, she hurled her axe at the beast's head. The axe-head struck it in the left eye, sticking on the spine just above it. Screaming in pain, the beast reeled and ran away.

Doubled over in agony, the Slayer, too, ran for safety.


	2. 24 Hours

Chapter 1

***

"That was soooo good," said Dawn, still chuckling a bit. "Pooh-Bah was my favorite."

"I've got some classes with the guy who plays him, and he's a nice person. He's got a great sense of humor," Tara told the young girl. "My favorite was Ko-Ko, though—he's just too nice to be the Lord High Executioner."

"Yeah, he was fun, too," agreed Dawn. "Thanks for taking me, Tara."

They were walking home from the bus stop, taking their time, but still hyper-aware of the night around them.

"Not a problem. Thanks for being my date tonight, Dawnie." Tara thought for a second about how that sounded. "I mean that in a strictly non-statutory way, of course."

"I didn't think you were making a pass at me." They were ambling up the Summers' front walk. "Want to come in?" Dawn asked. Tara hesitated. "Will's at a study group tonight. It'll be just me and the Buffster."

Trust Dawn to be so perceptive, thought Tara. "Sure, why not?" she said aloud. Truthfully, the warmth that had grown between Buffy and Tara since Buffy's confession was something Tara treasured. The other girl trusted her, saw her as her own friend and not simply Best Friend's Lover (or ex-lover), and Tara had found she liked Buffy even more than she admired her.

Dawn opened the door, calling, "Buffy?" No answer came. "Huh. The lights are on." The teen turned, making a beeline into the kitchen—and tripped over a pair of legs on the floor.

Tara had turned into the living room when Dawn's shriek of "Buffy!" commanded all her attention. She ran into the kitchen to find Dawn standing, horrified, over her sister's still body. Buffy was sprawled facedown on the kitchen floor beside a pool of her own vomit.

"BUFFY! Buffy, Buffy, Buffy, Buffy . . ." Dawn dropped to her knees, took her sister's shoulders, and turned the Slayer's body over so Buffy was resting in her sister's lap. "Wake up!"

Tara dropped to her own knees just as Buffy's eyelids fluttered open. The Slayer coughed and gasped, intense pain written all over her face. "D-Dawn?" she whispered.

"Buffy, what happened?" asked Tara urgently. The Slayer looked terrible: no color in her face, save for running makeup, and traces of vomit on her face and in her hair.

"It . . . it stung me. The thing. Hurts." Her eyelids started to close again.

"Buffy, no! Stay awake," Dawn ordered.

"Help me get her to the living room, Dawn," said Tara. Carefully, she put an arm under Buffy's shoulders, and she and Dawn started to lift the Slayer.

"Aah!" cried Buffy. It was a sound of pure pain. Her hands went to her belly.

Tara stopped what she was doing. "Buffy, are you . . ?"

"It's okay." Determinedly, Buffy reached her arms around Tara and Dawn's shoulders and allowed the two to help her to her feet. They made it to the living room, where the Slayer promptly collapsed on the couch, clutching at her belly. Taking in the patch of blood on Buffy's shirt, Tara lifted it away to reveal what looked like a bee sting, only ten times bigger, over Buffy's belly button. The wound was so swollen no blood was escaping anymore.

"Sh-should we call 911?" Dawn asked Tara.

"No," said the witch. "I doubt this is something a regular doctor could handle. Call Willow."

"She's at that study group. I don't know how to get ahold of her." Dawn's voice was trembling on the verge of hysteria.

"Then call Xander. He'll know where she is, and he can pick her up on his way over. We'll need everyone we can get." Tara touched Dawn's arm. "I'll clean Buffy up while you do that. It'll be okay, Dawn."

The teen nodded, rallying, and went to get the phone.

***

Ten minutes later, Willow, Xander, and Anya all came bursting in the door, variations of "Is she all right?" on their collective lips.

"What happened?" Willow asked Tara as she fell to her knees beside Buffy. Tara had wiped the makeup and vomit off the Slayer's face, which made her look better, if only just.

"We found her on the floor when we came in," said Dawn, still clutching the phone. "She said something stung her."

Tara pulled up Buffy's shirt to expose the wound. Buffy gasped as Willow gently brushed her fingers over it.

"Does it hurt bad?" Willow asked.

"Yes," Buffy barely whispered.

Xander found a place by the fallen Slayer's side. "Buffy, what happened? What did this?"

Buffy described the beast in short sentences, as if breathing pained her. What worried her friends most was the utter lack of Buffy's usual quips; generally, the Slayer was able to joke about anything, even if her humor did veer into the pitch black at times.

Anya suddenly forced her way past Willow, critically examining the wound, even leaning down to smell it. Then she held out her hand to Dawn. "Phone, please," she ordered. The teen, mystified, passed it over. Anya punched in a number.

"Hello?" she yelled into the phone as someone apparently answered. "Hello, Uncle Rory. It's me, Anya. Xander's fiancée? Yes, that's me. The one with the great ass. Could you put Skaldik on the phone? He's sort of blue, with gills on his face. He might be in the bathtub. Yes, that's the one. Please put him on the phone."

"You're calling our apartment?" Xander asked as Anya paused.

"I think I might know what stung Buffy," said the ex-demon. "I hope I'm wrong, because if I'm right, we're really screwed, but—hello, Skaldik? It's me, Anyanka. Do you know anything about an Antyliok being in town? Uh-huh. Right. Thanks, I forgot. Okay, go back to your bath. I'll pick up more salt on the way home. Yes, sea salt; I know you hate that iodized crap. I'm hanging up now." Anya clicked off. "I was afraid of that."

"What's this Anty-thingy?" asked Willow.

"It's an Antyliok," explained Anya. "They're demon killers."

"Waitasec—you're telling me this was done by a good beastie?" asked Xander.

Anya shrugged. "Not good, not bad, not anything, really. It's just a beast. Not too intelligent. It just so happens that they like eating demons, but they'll pretty much take out anything that gets in their path. They're in hibernation most of the time, but come out of it about once every eighty-four years. Of course, they don't exactly use the Gregorian calendar, so—"

"An. The point, please," said Xander.

"The point is it pretty much matches what Buffy told us. They kill demons, and that's probably why Buffy was having such a slow night; most demons go into hiding if they think one's in the area. Also, Skaldik told me when the last outbreak of them was. I'd kind of forgotten; what with going human and all, and the wedding, I had other things on my mind. The time's about right. Besides, it matches the description I've always heard."

"So you've never actually seen one of these things?" Willow asked.

"Hell, no. I'd skeedaddle at the first rumor one was in the area. Those things are scary. And you don't want to kill one, if you're a demon: their blood destroys demons. And their sting?" Anya shuddered. "The only cure for the venom is the blood of the beast. Which makes it kinda pointless for demons. But it's okay for humans."

"Okay," said Xander. "I guess it's time to mount up and take this thing down."

"Actually, it's time to get Spike," Anya corrected. Everyone looked at her. "There's a cleansing ritual you can do with vampire's blood. Right now, Buffy's only got about twenty-four hours; the ritual might buy us some more time."

Xander stood. "All right. I'll bring you back either Spike or his blood."

"Xander, wait," called Dawn. She jumped to her own feet, grabbing her jacket. "I'm coming with you."

"Dawn—"

"I'm coming," the teen said, interrupting Xander's objection. "I know where some of Spike's haunts are, and besides, he'll listen to me before he'll listen to you. I'm not taking any chances with Buffy. Let's go." She was out the door as she finished, and Xander could only follow.

Back at the couch, Willow tenderly brushed golden strands back from Buffy's pale face. "You're gonna be okay," the hacker whispered.

Buffy's eyes fixed on her friend's face. "I don't . . . want anyone . . . getting hurt because of me," she gasped out.

"Hey. Don't start with the arguing," Willow rebuked softly. "We're gonna take care of you. I promise."

The Slayer smiled feebly as Tara laid a cold cloth across her forehead. "I know."

Buffy's eyes fluttered shut again, and Tara and Willow traded a worried look over her fevered body.

***

Xander and Dawn decided Spike's crypt was the best place to start their search for him. When they got there, a surprise was awaiting them. The place appeared to have hosted an explosion at some point in the very recent past.

"Think Riley did this?" asked Dawn as she and Xander entered, walking carefully. "He's big with the explosives."

"More power to him, I say. Spike? You in here, Dead Boy Junior?"

There was no immediate answer. Dawn surveyed the walls and floor with a flashlight. The beam found a piece of leather, which quickly lead to the discovery of Spike, passed out cold against one wall. Xander went to investigate.

"Is he asleep?" Dawn asked, looking over Xander's shoulder.

Xander pried a bottle of whiskey out of Spike's cold, dead fingers. "It's worse than that: he's drunk, Dawn."

"Spike?" Dawn called. "Spike, wake up!"

"Huh?" exclaimed the vampire, lurching upward and opening one eye.

"Spike, get up. We need your help," said Dawn.

Spike just chuckled. "Need my help. Well, ain't that a bloody laugh?" He raised his fist to his mouth before he seemed to realize there was no whiskey to be found in it. He looked momentarily puzzled before locating his bottle in Xander's hand. "Here, now, gimme that."

Xander evaded the vampire's clumsy grasp and calmly emptied the bottle on the crypt floor over Spike's protest. "No can do, Captain Peroxide. Buffy needs you."

"Oh, she does, does she?" Spike focused his red-rimmed eyes on Xander. "You can tell that bint that she can scream, she can cry, she can beg, but there'll be no more Spike gettin' taken advantage of. Got my dignity, I have." He belched.

Dawn leaned down, clutching Spike's shoulder. "Spike, please! Buffy needs your help, or—"

"She's the one who called it off!" Spike interrupted loudly. " 'It's over, Spike.' 'I'm using you, Spike.' 'I'm sorry, William.' She called me William!" He started to cry, holding Dawn's hand to his face. "Why'd she have to do that, Li'l Bit?"

Xander rolled his eyes. "Great. He's delusional. I'm thinking Plan B." He held up the now-empty whiskey bottle and produced a pocketknife. "Bottle. Knife. Let's bleed him!" The carpenter lifted Spike's other arm and took aim with the knife.

"Xander!" Impatiently, Dawn smacked Xander's knife hand away from Spike's arm. The teen then grabbed Spike by his coat lapels and shook him with all her strength until he looked her in the face. "Spike! Listen! Buffy's been hurt, bad. She's dying. Anya says you can help her. Please, Spike! I know you and Buffy haven't been getting along, but . . ." Tears welled in Dawn's blue eyes. "I can't lose her again. Please help us."

Comprehension slowly dawned on Spike's face. "Dying?" he asked.

Dawn nodded, tears running down her face. "Anya says you can help. Please, Spike."

"All right, then." Spike blinked a few times, as if clearing his head. "Don't cry, Sweet Bit. Spikey's here." He attempted to stand. The attempt failed. "Just gimme a sec."

Xander set aside the bottle and pocketed his knife. "If we wait for him to be able to stand, we'll be here all night. Help me get him up, Dawnie." With some effort, Dawn and Xander lifted Spike to his feet. "Oof. Dead weight."

" 'Course, she won't be grateful," Spike mumbled as the two maneuvered him out of the crypt and toward Xander's car. "Five'll get you ten she'll break my nose again when it's all over. Bitch. But I do love her." He chuckled. "She's right; I do love the pain. No one's ever hurt me like she does . . ."

"Dawn?" grunted Xander under Spike's weight. "May I knock him unconscious?"

Dawn, panting under the strain, said, "He keeps talking like that, I'll do it myself."

It only took them a few minutes to reach the Summers house, but when they came to a stop, Spike was able to walk in unassisted (if not gracefully). He walked to the couch and looked down at Buffy.

"Cor, you look pathetic, love," he commented.

For the first time since her friends had discovered her on the kitchen floor, there was a spark in Buffy's eyes. She glared at Spike. "It took a hurking big demon to get me looking this way," the Slayer rasped. "What's your excuse?"

"Whiskey. Lots of it," volunteered Xander.

Anya walked briskly in from the kitchen, tossing Spike a carving knife as she did so. "Cut yourself," she ordered. Spike blinked at her. "Cut your hand or something! We need your blood for Buffy."

"S'pose it's a good thing I'm feeling no pain," muttered Spike as he gamely sliced his right hand open. Dawn blanched and looked away.

Anya went to Buffy and exposed the sting wound on her belly. "Set your hand on the wound. Your blood will need to soak in for a few minutes."

Spike obligingly plopped his bleeding hand down on the swollen sting. Buffy bit back a cry.

"Be careful!" scolded Willow, Tara, and Dawn all at the same time.

The vampire was staring into Buffy's face. "Does it hurt?" he asked. "Feel like somebody's ripping your guts right out?"

Buffy forced her eyes open, breathing with great effort. "You think I don't know pain, Spike?" she hissed. "Believe me, I know it even better than you do."

They continued to stare each other down until Anya finally said, "That's enough. Get your hand off her, Spike."

"Gladly!" snapped the vampire. He lifted his hand to reveal a bloody patch covering Buffy's wound.

Anya was working the top off a vial. Spike took a look at it.

"Don't tell me you're going to use that to clean her up," he said.

"Holy water," said Anya. "It's part of the ritual."

Spike snorted. "It'll hurt like hell."

"If not worse," concurred Anya. "Hold her head and shoulders down, would you?" The ex-demon sat across Buffy's legs. "Just in case you thrash, which, let's face it, you probably will," she said to the Slayer.

Spike took a position at the head of the couch and wrapped an arm around Buffy's shoulders and neck. "Comfy, love?"

"Your breath stinks," said Buffy. "Anya—go ahead."

Anya poured the holy water. As it hit the vampire's blood, the mixture hissed and fizzed like a science project volcano, and Buffy screamed the scream of a woman having acid poured on her belly. Then she did the sensible thing and passed out.

Anya found herself on the floor, looking somewhat surprised. She guessed Buffy had indeed thrashed. Dawn, meanwhile, had rushed to Buffy's side and pulled her sister's head and shoulders from Spike's grasp into her own arms.

"Why did you do that?" the teen demanded of Anya.

The ex-demon picked herself up with a little help from Xander and checked Buffy's stomach. "The vampire's blood-holy water mixture should have destroyed any of the venom that hasn't absorbed," she explained calmly. "Cleaning the wound should buy us some time. We still need the antivenin, though."

"Which means the thing's blood, right?" asked Xander. Anya nodded. "Okay. I'm going for it. Who's coming?"

"I could use a spot of violence," said Spike. "What kind of thing are we lookin' at doing in?"

"An Antyliok," said Anya.

Spike gaped at her. "My original plan of spending the night in a drunken stupor is looking better and better. See you wankers later." He stood and made for the door.

"Spike," called Dawn.

The vampire looked back at the teen and the pale, wounded warrior in her arms. A short war fought itself out in his face. Then he pulled at his hair, let out a roar, and stomped his feet repeatedly.

"Fine," he muttered at last, and made for the weapons.

"It's got unarmored skin . . . on its chest and belly," Buffy gasped out, surprising everyone. She opened her eyes, drew in a deep breath, swallowed, and went on. "You should take weapons . . . that give you a long reach. Spike . . . you should take my longest sword." She breathed in and out a few more times. "You can use it . . . better than anyone else. Also . . . polearms. Xander, take one."

Xander did as she said. "Buffy, don't talk," he told her gently. "We can—"

"No," Buffy interrupted, her voice firmer. "Important—I blinded it . . . in the left eye. Keep in its blind spot . . . fewer bodily injuries that way. Stay away from the tail. Cannot emphasize enough." With that, she passed out again.

Willow had moved over to the weapons now and was picking through them. She hefted a few polearms, mulling over which one to take.

"Willow, are you going?" asked Tara.

"Yeah," said the redhead. "I figure I can lend a hand. You guys stay here and take care of Buffy."

Anya came charging back in from the kitchen. "Wait—that's not fair! Willow's not a fighter." She looked directly at the other girl. "You don't even use magic now. Tara would be a better choice to go."

Willow's mouth tightened. "I can take care of myself."

"Willow, she's right." Tara stood from her place beside Buffy. "You've never gone up against something this big without magic or without Buffy. I'll go instead."

"We'll both go," Willow said decisively.

"No, you won't," said Spike. "I'm not babysittin' three of you. The whelp and the witch'll be quite enough, thank you."

Xander broke in with a protest, Willow continued to argue with Tara, Anya stepped in with a few sharp remarks, and the noise level in the house increased at an exponential rate.

"SHUT UP!"

The high-pitched shriek cut through all the overlapping chatter, and the combatants turned to face Dawn, who was standing, fists balled up, face red, thoroughly furious.

"Get over yourselves!" ranted the teen. "My sister's lying here in pain, and all you can do is argue? God, I thought adults were supposed to be smart! If you actually care about her, you'll do something instead of just talking about it. And if you don't, you can all just GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!"

Her fury spent, Dawn burst into tears. Willow shook off the shock first and went over to comfort the teen. With her arms around Dawn, the redhead faced the others.

"Okay, here's what happens," she said. "Anya, you know the most about this thing and how to treat Buffy. The first thing to do is to have Xander swing you by the Magic Box to grab any books or supplies you think will help. I-I'll stay here and help you research and care for Buffy. Xander, Spike, and Tara, you guys track this thing. Start at the cemetery Buffy fought it in and work outward from there. Keep in cell phone contact with us here, and we'll keep you updated on what we know. Sound like a plan?"

"Sounds like a good one," said Xander.

"I'll need to stop by my dorm room, too," put in Tara. "I need to change clothes, and I've got some magic supplies that could come in handy."

"Take what you need from the Magic Box, too," said Anya. "I'll bill you later."

"We done chit-chatting?" asked Spike.

Anya pulled on her jacket. "Ready to go."

"Then let's go," said the vampire. He, Anya, Tara, and Xander walked out the door.


	3. Some Unpleasant Discoveries

Chapter 2

About fifteen minutes after she'd left, Anya came back through the door. Xander, bearing a large cardboard box, followed her in. He parked it on the dining room table, spared a peck for Anya and a determined glance for Buffy, and headed straight back out the door. Willow heard his car pull away seconds later.

"Guess they're off," she murmured. "What did you get, Anya?"

The former demon was busily unloading her supplies onto the table. "Nothing much—just books, herbs, and a candle. You're not allowed to touch them. Well, the books, maybe, but not the magic stuff."

"I kinda guessed that," said Willow dryly. "We've got some books here, too, although I got rid of anything with spells in it. I brought them down."

"There are a few here with spells, too." Anya divided the books up into two piles, one significantly larger than the other. She pointed at the larger stack. "You can look through those. I've got to make Buffy some tea. Painkillers won't work on this, but I know of a brew that should at least help."

"Can I do anything?" asked Dawn. She'd taken the intervening time to make Buffy as comfortable as possible. As the Slayer had been extremely reluctant to go upstairs—half because she didn't want to be out of the loop, half because it hurt too much to walk, let alone climb stairs—Dawn had brought down blankets and pillows.

Anya handed the girl the candle. "Put that at Buffy's head and light it. It should help her sleep."

"Won't it make us sleepy, too?" asked Dawn.

"Oh, no," said Willow. "See, it's got a spell in it, not just herbs. It's directional. That's why you have to put it at Buffy's head, because that way it'll affect her and just her. Now, you put it in the middle of a room . . ." Willow stopped, realizing her enthusiasm was running away with her again. "Anyway, it'll work."

"Gotcha." Dawn grabbed a lighter and headed back to the living room with the candle.

Anya set up shop in the kitchen. Willow watched briefly as she began to measure herbs and boil water, and then the hacker hit the books.

***

Spike, Tara, and Xander stood in a cemetery, glancing around at rips in the turf, broken headstones, a busted axe handle, and bits and pieces of demon.

"I'd say this is the place," said Tara.

"Looks like Buffy's work, all right," agreed Xander.

Spike bent over and picked up a bony spine. "Reckon this came off the beastie? Stinks enough. Almost as bad as Xander's aftershave."

"Or your cigarette-and-cheap-booze breath," shot back Xander.

The vampire handed the spine to Tara, lit up a cigarette, and blew the smoke at Xander. Tara examined the spine carefully.

"It's got to be off the demon," said the witch. "This is good. I can do a location spell using this. That should save us some time." She had a small pack over one shoulder, which she took down and opened. Xander and Spike stood by and watched as Tara spread out a map of Sunnydale, laid the spine on it, sprinkled spell-sand over both, and chanted softly in Latin. After a few moments, a flickering bluish light coalesced over a point on the map.

"North of here," noted Spike. "Probably headed toward the caves."

Xander nodded, looking like it pained him to agree with Spike. "There's lots of demony goodness up that way for it to eat."

The light faded, and Tara packed the map and spine back into her bag. "Location spells aren't an exact science, and this thing's probably moving. Still, it gives us a starting point."

"Yeah, we can take my car up to where the spell thinks it is and track it from there," Xander said. "Save us some time, and some wear and tear on the ol' feet."

"If you two are finished patting yourselves on the back, can we get moving? I'd like to get this over with," said Spike.

"Let's go, Tara," said Xander. "Bombshell Blond here wants to get back to his nice, cozy crypt and snuggle up with Jack Daniels again."

Spike gave him a spiteful look. "Unless you've forgotten, Droopy Boy, your friend the Slayer is laying at home suffering. I'd think you'd want to hurry. That is, of course, assuming you care about her more than you care about getting off potshots at me."

"I care about Buffy more than you do, and without the obsessive/compulsive disorder, Chippy the Fangless."

Xander should have been warned off by the look on Spike's face. The vampire smiled slightly, adjusting his stance and cocking his head at the carpenter. "Yeah, that's right," the vampire drawled. "I forgot. You care so much that you yank her out of heaven and then play deaf, dumb and blind when it's glaringly obvious there's something wrong with her. Haven't even bothered to talk to her about the whole business, have you? Coward. You care so much you fired her so you wouldn't get in trouble with your mates and let her work at the Doublemeat Dungeon instead. Parasites, that's what the lot of you are."

Xander made a move like he was going to attack Spike physically. Tara hastily interceded.

"Hey!" She forced her way between the young man and the vampire. "Buffy's life is at stake here, and if I think your bickering is endangering her, I won't consider it an abuse of magic to cast a silence spell on the both of you." The witch glared at each in turn. "Do I make myself clear?"

Xander and Spike backed off, still glaring.

"Fine," breathed Spike. "I'll hold my tongue, provided Lack-Brain here does."

Xander turned to Tara. "Tell the Platinum Pretender I won't say another word to him. Let's go."

All three headed toward Xander's car, Tara wondering idly just how many more names Xander and Spike would come up with for each other before this was all over.

***

". . . ask Skaldik if you want more information. No, I swear I didn't know! I haven't been a demon for about three years now; I don't have to keep track of these things anymore. What's that I hear in the background? What?! Tell him to stop that! I don't care what she smells like, you don't go eating Xander's relatives. It's impolite. No, I will not find you a virgin; I only know one, and the Slayer would be mighty upset if someone sacrificed her sister again. Besides, you and I both know all that stuff about virgin sacrifices is just a bunch of old succubi's tales. Just stay inside. We're taking care of it." Anya looked up from the phone to see an impatient Willow giving her the cut-off sign. "Look, Krevlin, we have to keep this line free. I'm going to be rude and hang up on you now, and I insist that you don't call me back." The ex-demon followed through with her threat and hung up, muttering, "Odin's teeth."

"Your demons pretty freaked out?" asked Dawn.

"They're acting very immature," said Anya. "One demon-eating beast and they go all to pieces. You'd think the world's coming to an end. It's not, is it, Willow?"

"No," sighed the redhead, buried in her book. "Antyliok beasts are thought to be a balancing force. When demons get too prolific, the Antylioks rise up, lower their numbers, and then go back into hibernation after gorging on demon flesh and blood. Ugh. Kind of a balance-of-supernature thing."

"This book doesn't say anything about them we don't know already," said Dawn, shutting the book in front of her. The teen stood, stretching, and peeked back into the living room.

"She still asleep, Dawnie?" asked Willow.

"Yeah. She said the tea helped a lot, and that candle's pretty powerful." Dawn yawned. "I think it got me, too."

"Either that or it's almost 1:00 AM and you're a growing girl who needs her rest," said Willow. "You should get some sleep."

"I don't think I could," said Dawn sadly. "Besides, I don't want to be that far away from Buffy if she needs me."

"So go to sleep in one of the chairs," offered Anya. "That way, if Buffy wakes up and starts screaming, you'll be right there."

"Anya does have a point," said Willow. "Why don't you grab a pillow and a blanket and sack out in the living room? One of us will wake you if anything important comes up."

Dawn made one last effort. "You two are staying awake."

Willow wasn't buying. "Yeah, but I've taken Human Development, so I know that a 15-year-old needs a lot more sleep than a 21-year-old. You'll be a lot better for Buffy if you're not all punchy. Okay?"

Dawn yawned hugely once more and gave in. She got a pillow and a blanket and curled up in one of the living room chairs. Within a few minutes, she dozed off. Anya and Willow continued researching.

"I've got something," said Anya after a little while. "The beasts shy away from bright light. It doesn't kill them, but they don't like it."

Willow scribbled that down on her scratch pad. "That's useful. I know Xander's taking along his halogen flashlight, so they can use that. Tara knows light spells, too."

A few minutes later, Willow had some news of her own. "Uh-oh."

"What?" asked Anya.

"This is bad," fretted the redhead. "This book says the beast turns to goo when it dies."

"So they have to bleed it while it's still alive?" asked Anya, aghast. "That's not fair!"

"Fair or not, it's what they've gotta do." Willow looked none too happy as she dialed Xander's cell phone. "Tara? Hey, Anya and I found some info for you guys. Have you found the Antyliok's trail yet?" Willow listened briefly, then related all the information she and Anya had found regarding the beast.

"Tell them to be careful, and not to let Xander get broken," interjected Anya as Willow finished up.

"Anya says to be careful. I'm seconding that," said Willow. She broke into a smile at something Tara said. "Try not to kill them before Buffy's cured, okay? Okay. Talk to you later." Willow clicked off. "Tara says Xander and Spike are making her think murderous thoughts, but she did a location spell and found a good place for them to start looking for the Antyliok."

"Good," said Anya. "Buffy hurt it, so they'll have it down in no time, come back here with the blood, cure Buffy, and everything'll be hunky-dory. After all, it's less than a week until the wedding. Xander couldn't get . . . hurt now, could he? It wouldn't be fair."

Willow was ready to be annoyed when she saw the look in Anya's eyes. The former demon looked almost childlike, begging Willow to reassure her that nothing would happen to her fiancé.

"They'll be fine," was all Willow said, giving Anya the reassurance she herself desperately needed.

***

"You've gotta be kidding me."

Tara looked about as happy as Xander as she confirmed, "That's what she told me. We've got to get the blood while the Antyliok's still alive."

"You've gotta be kidding," Xander repeated. "Boy, just when you thought this couldn't get any more fun . . ."

Spike chuckled from the back seat. "Bleedin' something while it's alive's always more fun. Didn't you know that, bricklayer?"

"Shut up, fang-face. Tara, what about magic to keep this thing down?"

The witch looked doubtful. "I might be able to immobilize it for a few seconds, but no longer. On the other hand, light spells aren't that hard, and Willow said it'll shy away from bright light."

Xander nodded. "Could be useful."

Spike leaned forward. "Should keep it belowground during the day, too. That'll keep me in the game."

"And the fun just keeps on coming," sighed Xander.

"You wanna go up against this thing alone, be my guest, blood sack. Seeing you screaming in pain after it stings you would make my soddin' decade," snapped Spike.

"Would you two please at least try to stop butting heads?" Tara requested wearily. "I swear, the testosterone I'm being exposed to is making me happier and happier I'm gay."

"Sorry, Tara."

"Right, witch."

A few minutes later, they arrived in the general area Tara's location spell had indicated. They were well out of town, in a forested area near the mouths of several caves. Xander found a good place to leave his car, and as Spike and Tara started looking around, Xander delved into the trunk of his car for a coil of rope and a medium-sized backpack. Spike was the first to notice several strange lumps lying on the ground around one of the cave mouths.

"Somethin' smells right awful," the vampire muttered. Xander and Tara followed him over, and Xander shined his halogen on the lumps.

He immediately flicked it away, but not before Tara gagged and nearly retched. The lumps turned out to be the dismembered, half-eaten corpse of a demon.

"Korvah demon, from the looks of it. Not to mention the smell," Spike noted casually. "Looks like our bogey's been here."

"You okay, Tara?" Xander asked, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I-I'm okay," Tara said, her voice shaking as she fought down her nausea. "Just r-really grossed out."

Spike stooped down next to something else on the ground. "You two. Witch. Lackey boy. Over here. There's something you'll be interested in."

Tara gave Xander a stern look before he could come up with a comment, and both joined Spike. The vampire was crouched next to an axe-head covered with dark stains.

"That's the head from Buffy's favorite axe," said Xander.

"Beastie must've shaken it loose," Spike concluded. He reached down, picked it up—and dropped it like a hot rock and ran, howling, for a stream of water trickling from one of the caves. He plunged his hand in it, swearing loudly and creatively.

"What is it?" called Tara. Spike answered with several enthusiastic curses. Xander picked out some English (both American and British) and what sounded like German, but the rest of the languages the vampire was using were a mystery. The young man and Tara waited patiently for Spike to regain his composure.

"Bugger it all to hell!" was the final curse. "That hurt worse than pickin' up a crucifix soaked in holy water!"

"Let me look," said Tara. Spike displayed his hand, which was raw and blistered. Tara pulled a first aid kit from her bag and began to dress the wound. "Anya said the creature's blood destroys demons. That must be what's on the axe-head."

"Perfect. Goin' after a demon-eating beast with demonic acid for blood when I should be in my crypt, drunk as a lord. Why? 'Cause of the soddin' Slayer and her li'l sister's big blue eyes. Bloody Great Poofter himself couldn't do any better. Turnin' into a poof myself. Love's bitch, I am." Spike continued muttering as Tara finished bandaging his hand. "Come on. The Antyliok's smell's strongest coming from this cave. Any luck, we'll all be dead by morning." He stalked into the nearest cave mouth. Tara and Xander traded a look, then followed.

They descended into the cave, Spike in the lead, Tara following with the flashlight, and Xander bringing up the rear. Xander had an illuminated compass in one hand, and about every twenty feet, he used a can of fluorescent paint to mark the cave wall. They traveled on that way for an unknown period of time. No one spoke, and the dark and the silence seemed to warp time around them.

Suddenly, Spike pulled up short, hissing at the others to be quiet. They all stood stock-still, Tara and Xander holding their breath.

"Something's ahead of us," the vampire muttered. "Whatever it is, it's big."

Tara shone the flashlight into the space ahead of them. It revealed a sharp drop just a few feet from where Spike had stopped. Carefully, they stepped to the edge of the drop-off and found it was only about fifteen feet. After that, the cave widened into impenetrable gloom.

Without warning, Spike leaped over the ledge, landing perfectly on his feet at the bottom. "Lower the witch to me," he told Xander.

Xander balked, but Tara reassured him, saying, "I'll be okay." She turned, grabbing onto Xander's arms, and the young man carefully lowered her. Spike grabbed her ankles, and she dropped into his arms.

Xander, meanwhile, had pulled a heavy metal hook out of his pack, and he pounded it into the ground, attaching the coil of rope to it. Then he lowered himself into the cavern.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, an enraged roar pounded its way through the caves. All three were instantly on highest alert, poised and ready. Spike was suddenly holding Buffy's longsword, and Xander pulled his polearm from the makeshift holster he'd created for it on his backpack. He'd chosen a halberd, a long axe with a spike on the back of the axe-head. The backpack hit the ground.

Tara searched the cavern with the flashlight. As if in a nightmare, the Antyliok emerged from the darkness, snarling, its right eye bulging, its left eye only a bloody patch. Spike's eyes flicked down and took in the bloody wound on its chest as well. It flinched slightly as the powerful halogen lit on it.

"Keep that light on it, witch," Spike ordered, sotto voce. "Harris—go off to its right to distract it. I'll keep to its left and attack."

Though Xander liked Spike little better than something he might step in, the young man knew better than to question orders in a combat situation—particularly when those orders came from a more experienced fighter. Carefully, he stepped to the beast's right, holding his polearm in front of him.

"That's right, Your Beastiness," Xander said. "Keep your eye on me and the bright, shiny sharp thing. Pay no attention to the vampire on your left."

Spike had melted into the shadows, a faint glint from his white hair and his sword all that betrayed his presence. The beast was tracking Xander, growling low, and Tara had also stepped to the right to get a better angle with the flashlight. All at once, the Antyliok made a lunge for Xander. At that moment, Spike dove out of the darkness, wielding the longsword and making a swipe at the wound Buffy had created while preparing to dodge any blood that might come spurting out.

It might have worked, too, except for the fact that the monster was a born demon-killer. Xander was immediately forgotten as the Antyliok turned on Spike with its teeth and talons. The claws of its left front foot scored deep into the vampire's chest, and Spike howled. Xander ran in, swinging the polearm and relieving the beast of another spine off its head. In return the beast swung its right paw backward, knocking Xander into the side of the cavern, where he crumpled to the ground. Then it returned its attention to Spike.

This is it, thought the vampire as the growling Antyliok loomed over him, holding him down with one paw. Gonna get eaten by this thing while trying to save the Slayer's life. Pathetic, what?

Then he heard Tara's voice, shouting out a spell. A huge rock smashed into the Antyliok's face. Bellowing, it searched for its attacker, momentarily letting Spike go. Spike reached for his sword—and then one of the beast's hind feet landed on the vampire's left leg, snapping the bone. Spike screamed, and he also heard Tara scream from somewhere off to the side.

We're all done for, he thought.

Then there was light. "Fiat lux!" cried Tara. "Lux! LUX!" Her voice rose to a scream, and the light was blinding. There was a howl and the scrabble of clawed feet on the cavern floor.

As the light faded, Spike turned his head and saw Xander lying, unconscious, against one wall, and Tara crumpled to the floor only a few feet away. The Antyliok was nowhere to be seen.

Then all was darkness.

***

"I think . . . this goes beyond . . . the call of sisterly duty," Buffy said to Dawn as the young girl helped her down the stairs from the bathroom.

"Nah," said Dawn. "That would be cleaning up your barf. I'm just glad Tara took care of that, 'cause I'm a sympathetic barfer."

"Please," gasped Buffy, "don't say . . . barf."

"Sorry. Anyway, you'd do the same for me."

"Nope. Willow . . . would do this for you. Me . . . I'd be out . . . kicking the crap out of this thing." Buffy leaned heavily on her sister as they reached the last step. Willow met them there.

"Hey, Buffy," said the redhead. "How you feeling?"

"Somewhere . . . between crappy . . . and mostly dead." Suddenly, Buffy released her hold on Dawn and fell to the floor, gagging and heaving. There was nothing left in her stomach to be thrown up, and all Dawn and Willow could do was wait helplessly until the spasms passed.

"Anya?" called Willow. "We need some more—"

"It's steeping," interrupted Anya from the kitchen. "Give it another minute for full strength."

Buffy finished heaving, and Willow and Dawn helped her back over to the couch. "You're gonna be all right," Dawn whispered to her sister as they covered her. Buffy was shaking and ghostly white.

Anya came out of the kitchen with a mug of dark, almost black tea. Dawn helped Buffy sit up, and the Slayer sipped at the brew carefully. She wrinkled her nose.

"Thanks, Anya," Buffy breathed. "It . . . helps. Tastes awful . . . but helps."

"I can add honey," offered Anya. "That might help with the taste."

Buffy gave her a baleful look. "You're telling me this now? On my . . . third cup?"

"Well, you didn't ask before." Buffy continued to glare, and Anya decided that had been the wrong answer. "I'll add it now." She took the cup and headed into the kitchen. Buffy leaned back on Dawn. The teen stroked her hair softly.

Willow followed Anya into the kitchen and started flipping through one of the books again.

"You've already looked at that one twice," Anya pointed out. "It's not going to say anything new this time."

Willow sighed, wishing Anya wasn't so pragmatic. "Look, it's just hard for me to sit here doing nothing while my best friend's dying."

"Oh, she's not dying," said Anya. Willow stared. "The beast's venom doesn't kill. Well, not directly."

"But—but you said we've only got twenty-four hours to cure her."

"That's because after a day, give or take a few hours, the antivenin won't work anymore."

"But she won't die." Willow thought about that, and her sharp brain leaped to a conclusion she didn't want to think about. "You mean . . . you mean that if we don't get her the antivenin . . ."

"Buffy will be in pain forever," said Anya. "Most people, if they get stung, don't live long. They either commit suicide, or . . . they just don't live long."

"The pain leaves them vulnerable to illness or attack," realized Willow in horror. "And Buffy's the Slayer."

"She wouldn't last long, would she?" asked Anya sadly. "Do you think we should tell her?"

"No! Most profoundly not." Willow shook her head. "Not Buffy, not Dawn. If Buffy hears this . . . it wouldn't be good." The redhead swallowed. "Is the tea ready?"

Anya handed her the mug, and Willow forced herself into a semblance of being upbeat as she went into the living room.

"Here's your tea, Buffy," she said. "Drink up."

Dawn helped Buffy into a sitting position, and the Slayer drank as much of the tea as she could manage. Then she pushed the cup away, shaking her head. Willow took the cup back.

"I'll put it in the fridge," the redhead offered. "Anya says it'll still work cold, and it might even taste better iced."

Buffy didn't reply, just laid down in Dawn's lap, curling into an almost fetal position. Dawn murmured reassurances to her sister, rocking her gently, and looked up at Willow, eyes full of tears and worry. Willow sat on the arm of the couch, taking Dawn into her own arms.

"It'll be all right, Dawnie," Willow murmured, trying to convince herself. "Everything will be all right."


	4. Into the Daylight, Into the Dark

Chapter 2

Spike was aware of severe pain as he came back to consciousness. He groaned and tried to move.

"Hold still," said Tara's voice from somewhere above him. "You'll be all right, but I need to bandage your chest."

Slowly, the vampire opened his eyes. Flickering light was coming from somewhere, illuminating the soft blond hair around Tara's face as she bent over him, face set in concentration. He could feel her warm hands smoothing bandages over his chest. It felt like half of it had been torn away.

"Where's the beast?" he rasped out.

"Gone." She sounded exhausted. "We don't know where or for how long. Xander's backtracking, making sure he can find the mouth of the cave again. When he comes back, we'll all leave."

"Not me," said Spike. "Sun's up soon. Doubt I could make it to the car without burning up."

Tara looked at him quizzically. "How do you know it's morning?"

"I'm a vampire, witch. I always know."

Tara finished with her bandaging job. "There. Can you sit up at all?"

With Tara's help, Spike did so, swearing vehemently. "I've got a busted leg, too," he told her. He looked around and discovered the light came from several road flares placed around them.

"I know. Xander's going to help me splint it when he comes back."

"Oh, joy. Won't we all have fun?" Spike sniffed the air. "You're bleedin', aren't you, witch?"

"Tara," she said. Spike looked at her. "My name is Tara, Spike. Please use it, unless you want me to start calling you 'vampire.'"

Spike chuckled. "All right, then, Tara. Grown a real backbone, haven't you?"

Tara looked away from him. "It seemed like the thing to do."

"Where are you bleeding?"

"My leg. The Antyliok clawed me. It's not too bad."

Spike grabbed the roll of bandaging. "Let's have a look at it. Promise not to take any snackies."

Painfully, Tara brought her right leg around. Just below the knee, two gashes had been torn out of her jeans and her calf. Both were bleeding, but not badly. Spike grabbed a pair of scissors out of the first-aid kit lying open next to them, cut the denim open up to her knee, and opened a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

"I've noticed that backbone growing on you," the vampire commented as he cleaned the wounds. Tara hissed with pain as the peroxide bubbled and fizzed. "Imagine you had to have it to move out on Red."

Tara's eyes flicked up to him, and Spike caught a trace of wariness in them. "It was h-hard."

"But you did it anyway."

"I had to."

"Even though you still love her."

Tara flinched violently as Spike's cold fingers spread antibiotic cream over her wounds. "The relationship wasn't working for either of us. What she was doing—it was wrong, and I c-couldn't stand by her while she was doing it. Especially when she cast a spell on me in order to keep me. That's not love."

The vampire was wrapping her leg now. "Suppose you're the expert on ending relationships now, do you? Tell me, did you write Buffy's breaking-up speech for her?"

Comprehension dawned on Tara's features. "That's what this is about? You think I talked Buffy into breaking things off with you?"

"Didn't you? Slayer's screwing a big, bad, evil monster, and you didn't tell her to get out before she got too dirty?"

"No, I didn't." Tara faced Spike's skeptical look. "When she told me about . . . what the two of you were doing, I told her I'd support her no matter what she decided. She was the one who decided . . . she told me it was wrong. For her. Yes, she used me as a sounding board while she was practicing her break-up speech, and I did take her out for ice cream afterward, but it was all her decision. Believe it or not, she didn't want to hurt you. Not any more than she already had."

Spike tucked the edge of the bandaging over and secured it with tape. Then he sat back, eyes smoldering. "I could've made her happy, you know. God's sake, I was the only one she could even talk to after what you all did to her."

"I know," Tara said sadly. "What we did was wrong, and I knew it was wrong, but I still went through with it. I'll always regret that. But that still doesn't change the fact that . . ." Tara took a deep breath. "Totally leaving aside the issue of whether there was anything truly wrong about her sleeping with you in the grand moral scheme, she felt it was wrong, that she was with you for all the wrong reasons. That's why she had to call it off—for her own sake."

" 'Course it would be all about her," Spike grumbled. "Things were going fine from where I was."

Tara let out an exasperated sigh. "Maybe, but didn't your idea of getting your old girlfriend Drusilla back involve tying her up and torturing her?" Spike stared. "That was one of the things Buffy told me while she was hashing out how to break up with you. And once, Willow told me you were all broken up because Drusilla didn't try to kill you before she left. Listen, Spike: while that may be perfectly fine for vampires, it's not for Buffy. Don't you get that?"

"And don't you get that maybe she's not your garden-variety human?" Spike shot back. "She's darker than you know."

"And she's lighter than you can stand," Tara retorted. "Isn't that what this is about—the fact that an emotionally healthy Buffy who's close to her family and friends won't be coming to you anymore? Wouldn't you keep her in the state she's in if that would keep her closer to you?"

Spike opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, Xander's voice came drifting through the cavern.

"Tara, you still okay down there?" the young man called.

Tara turned from the sound of Xander's voice to fix Spike with an intense look. "One last thing, Spike: get over it. You're being a pain in the butt." She looked up. "We're here, Xander!"

Spike stared at her, sudden amusement in his eyes. "Pain in the butt?" Tara flushed visibly. "I believe that's the first time I've been called exactly that."

"I'm sure it won't be the last time," Tara said wryly, a smile tugging at her mouth. Spike suddenly realized just how lovely she was and thought it rather a waste that she preferred women.

Xander descended into the cavern, flashlight in hand. "Hey, Tara. Is the Bleached Wonder ready to move?"

Spike snorted. Tara sighed. "His leg needs to be splinted," she told Xander. "Other than that, we're both good to go. Spike helped me bandage my leg."

Xander eyed them suspiciously. "He didn't take any snackies, did he?"

"And the Mighty Mouth just keeps on running," Spike muttered.

Tara, who was well and truly sick of male types by now, breathed a prayer for patience. "Help me splint Spike's leg, Xander. Then we can get out of here."

A few minutes and much colorful invective from Spike later, the job was done and the three were ready to ascend from the cavern. Xander went first, then helped Tara up. Spike used his preternatural strength to haul himself up using his arms alone. He was thoroughly exhausted by the time he got to the top, and Tara and Xander helped him up onto the ledge, which he sat down heavily upon.

"God, I need a fag," the vampire sighed, feeling his coat.

"A what?!" Xander squawked.

Spike gave him a look. Tara started giggling helplessly.

"Xander," she gasped out, "he wants a smoke. 'Fag' is slang for 'cigarette' in England."

Conspicuously tucking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it, Spike asked, "What did you think I meant? Think I fancy you?" Tara fell into punchy, exhausted laughter.

"Well," Xander spluttered, "I mean, you're a vampire and big with the ambiguous sexuality, and there's a Squick Factor of about 9.8 on that. Nothing wrong with gayness per se," he hastened to add for Tara's benefit. "Particularly when practiced by two attractive females—not that I would ever imagine my friends in such a position. Or positions. Or . . ." Seeing that he'd reduced Tara to literally rolling on the cave floor, Xander gave up. "I need to shut up now."

"Why?" asked Spike, gesturing with his cigarette. "Me and my fag find this all fascinating." He glanced at Tara, who still hadn't recovered. "So what did Xander the Mighty and the Wicca Princess plan while I was checked out?"

More grateful to Spike for the change of subject than he'd ever admit, Xander said, "Well, we figured we really need to regroup. Tara pointed out that you're going to need blood, and since neither of us is willing to make a donation, we're gonna have to stop by the butcher's. Also, we're both starving. We figured we'd stop by the Summers house, touch base with the research contingent, since my cell phone's not working in here, and get a fresh start."

Spike blew out a stream of smoke. "We are workin' on a deadline, you know. Literally."

"Yeah, we know, but we've got a good twelve hours before things get really desperate, and with you in the shape you're in, I don't think going after the thing again right now's the best idea. Call me crazy."

Tara sat up, wiping tears of mirth off her face. "Besides, Giles made a rough map of the caves a while back. It's at Buffy's. I can do another location spell using it, so it shouldn't take us too long to find the Antyliok again."

Spike finished his cigarette and crushed it out on the cave floor. "So you two are just going to leave me here?"

"Not here," said Tara. "We'll help you to the mouth of the cave. The daylight coming in should keep the Antyliok away."

"And trap me if it doesn't," Spike pointed out.

"Aw, don't worry," Xander said with great cheer. "We'll leave the weapons with you, too. Just try not to kill it—or let it kill you—before we get the blood, okay?" 

Spike came up with a new entry for his ever-growing "Ways to Kill Xander Harris When the Chip Comes Out" list as Xander and Tara helped him up, and the three slowly made their way through the caves while Spike gave them yet another primer in the fine art of cursing. Finally, they saw light ahead and smelled sweet morning air. Tara and Xander let Spike go, and the vampire sank down to the cave floor.

"We'll be back in a couple of hours," said Tara as she and Xander exited. "Try not to miss us too much."

"You're cute, witch," commented the vampire. Tara almost thought he meant it.

As she and Xander made their way back to his car, Tara said, "Just to warn you, I'm not going to be great company on the way back. I need to meditate—the spells and the fighting took a lot out of me."

"No problem," said Xander. "When we get back to Buffy's, do I need to wake you up or anything?"

"Just say my name, and I'll come out of it," said Tara. "Thanks."

It only seemed like a moment before Xander's gently-spoken "Tara?" pulled her from her trance, but when she opened her eyes, she felt like she'd had several hours of sleep. They were in front of the Summers house.

"I called ahead, and Willow said they have breakfast ready," Xander explained.

"That sounds incredibly good," said Tara, her stomach rumbling. She and Xander unloaded themselves from the car and went inside.

Inside, they were met by Anya, who had worked herself into a perfect tizzy. "Are you hurt? How bad? Where? Will it impair you from being in the wedding?" The ex-demon swiftly went to Xander and started frisking him for injuries.

"Anya, I'm fine—ow! Just the usual light concussion with a side of bruises. Not hurt there, hon. Or there. No bleeding, no internal injuries, nothing broken, especially not that, and we're not alone here . . ."

Willow, meanwhile, hesitantly approached Tara. "Are-are you okay? Look, your leg—it's bandaged. Well, you know that. Is it bad?"

"It's not bad," Tara reassured her. "I'm more frustrated than anything. Buffy's still in pain, and we didn't get the blood for her. How's she doing?"

Willow glanced toward the living room. "She's in and out. Anya brought a sleep candle and some tea that helps with the pain. Dawn's been taking care of her while Anya and I research."

Hearing her name, the teen joined the group, looking tired and drawn. "When are you guys going to go out again?"

"Soon. Real soon," said Xander. "We just need to regroup and give Spike a chance to heal up."

"How bad is he hurt?" asked Dawn.

"His chest was torn pretty badly," Tara told her. "One of his legs is broken, too. We need to stop by the butcher shop and get him some blood."

"You guys need to eat, too," said Willow. "C'mon. I scrambled some eggs for ya."

Tara and Xander ate while talking the situation over with Anya and Willow. Dawn was in and out, and Tara and Xander got the distinct impression the girl disapproved of them doing anything but hunting down the Antyliok for her sister.

Suddenly, Buffy was there. Dawn supported the Slayer as they made their way into the dining room.

"Buffy, you shouldn't be up," said Willow.

"Have to be," Buffy gasped, sitting down in a chair. "You guys . . . shouldn't have to do this . . . on your own. I should . . . go with."

"And do what? Fight while Dawn props you up?" Anya asked bluntly. "That wouldn't help."

"Anya's right, Buffy. You're not exactly up to full fighting strength," said Willow.

Buffy shook her head, eyes bright with tears and desperation. "I have to do something. Can't let you guys . . . get hurt for me."

"Buffy . . ." said Dawn, setting her hands on her sister's shoulders.

"Buffy, listen," said Xander. "You've gone to the wall for us again and again. You died for us. Now it's time to let us go to the wall for you. We can do this. We know we've got to, 'cause you're our Buffy, and nothing's gonna stop us."

"What he said," put in Willow.

Tara set her hand over the Slayer's. "Xander's right, Buffy. We know what we've got to do. Just t-try to have faith in us, okay?"

Buffy's tears overflowed. "I hate this," she whispered.

"Not too fond of it myself," said Xander.

"Just fight the poison that's in you," said Tara. "We'll take care of the rest."

Dawn, wiping tears of her own, moved to Buffy's side. "Let's go back to the couch, okay?"

Buffy acquiesced, looping an arm over the young girl's shoulders and allowing herself to be helped to her feet. As she and Dawn exited the dining room, Buffy turned back long enough to say, "I love you all. Please be careful."

Xander immediately stood. "Tara, time to go."

They collected the map of the caves, said a final round of goodbyes, and were out the door. "Okay," said Xander. "Butcher's shop, then back to the caves?"

"No," said Tara. "Your apartment."

"Not following you, Tare."

The witch looked at her friend. "Go back to your apartment, and let me have the car, Xander. I'll get the blood for Spike and some supplies for us, and I also need to get something from my dorm room. While I'm running errands, you take a nap."

Xander set his jaw. "Look, Tara—"

"Please don't argue with me," Tara interrupted firmly. "Trust me on this. I know what I need to do."

"Why don't I like the sound of that?"

"Because you shouldn't. I'll explain everything later. You'll be much better off if you get some sleep. I'll run the blood up to Spike first, then finish what I need to do. That should give you maybe two hours to sleep."

Xander looked at her suspiciously, but had the feeling he wouldn't get anything else out of the witch just yet. And he did trust her. Besides, he was exhausted. "Okay, Tara. Whatever you say. But you'd better explain this sooner rather than later."

"I will," promised Tara. Xander pulled up outside his apartment complex, took his apartment key off his key ring, and handed the wheel over to Tara. He watched her pull away, and then he went into his apartment and fell face-first into the bed without so much as taking off his shoes. In two minutes, he was snoring.

***

"Dawn?"

Dawn jumped up from her post in a living room chair at Buffy's voice. "Do you need something?" she asked her sister.

Buffy swallowed. "A little water."

The teen helped her sip from a glass. "Anything else?"

The Slayer laid back against her pillow and touched her little sister's face. "You're being so good about all this."

"Don't worry. I'll go back to being a pain when you're better," Dawn said wryly.

"Hey, if I'd known what it takes to . . . get you to behave . . ." Buffy grinned at her sister, who smiled back. "Listen . . . would you get Willow? Need to talk to her."

"One Willow, coming right up." Dawn went into the kitchen, and a moment later, Willow came out.

"You wanted to talk to me?" the redhead asked, kneeling by the couch.

"Will." Buffy reached out, and Willow took her hand. "If I don't make it . . ."

"Hey," Willow interrupted. "Don't talk like that. You're gonna be fine."

"If I don't make it," Buffy repeated, more firmly, "you have to . . . please promise me you'll take care of Dawn. Make sure . . . she doesn't have to go anywhere . . . she doesn't want to. Don't care who you have to lie to . . . what you have to hack into . . . convince Social Services . . . she belongs here. With you. With her . . . real family. Promise."

Eyes bright with tears, Willow nodded. "Of course. You don't even have to ask."

Buffy drew in a deep breath before speaking again. "One more thing. Promise me . . . if I die, you'll ask Tara . . . to ward my grave."

"So you can't be . . . raised again?" Willow whispered. Buffy nodded wordlessly. "Buffy, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for what I did to you." Tears flooded Willow's cheeks.

"Hey." Buffy squeezed Willow's hand. "I forgive you. You know that, don't you? I forgave you for that . . . long ago." Willow choked back a sob. "Just can't . . . go through it again. I know . . . you'd never . . . but s-someone else . . . might. Can't do it again. But I . . . want you to know . . . you're forgiven."

Weeping, Willow lifted Buffy's hand to her mouth and kissed it. "I love you so much."

"Love you, too," whispered Buffy as she wiped her friend's tears away.

***

Sharp rapping at his door woke Xander from a sound sleep. Fuzzily, he lifted his head and looked at his clock. It was almost noon. The knocking came again, louder this time, and the young man forced himself out of bed, stumbled to the door, and opened it. Tara was standing there, bearing a bag from the Doublemeat Palace.

"Ready to go?" asked the witch. "I brought lunch for you. I ate while I was out."

"Uh, yeah." Xander's head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. "Wait. Bathroom first, then we'll go."

When they got into Xander's car, with Xander driving this time, the first thing he noticed was the strong smell of coffee. He looked at the cupholders. It seemed Tara had also taken it upon herself to stop at the Express-O Coffee Hut.

"You are a wonderful, wonderful woman," he said fervently, picking up one of the cups and gulping down sweet, blessed caffeine. "I'd ask you to marry me, but one, I'm already engaged, and two, I think I'm a bit too—what's the word—male for you."

Tara giggled. "If it wasn't for the above factors, I'd take you up on the offer."

Xander started the car and pulled away. "So, feel like explaining all the mystery?"

"Not yet," said Tara. "I'm going to meditate again while you drive. When we get to the caves, I'll explain everything to you and Spike at once."

"Excuse me for saying this, but you're acting like you're not too happy about whatever it is you're doing."

"I'm not," Tara stated flatly. "When I explain, you'll understand why. But it's what's necessary. Wake me when we get to the caves, okay?" She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.

Xander looked at her, a little frustrated, then started eating the burger she'd gotten for him as he drove.

About a half-hour later, they were at the caves. Xander woke Tara, and they made their way to the one they'd emerged from that morning. Spike was waiting for them just past the first bend.

"'Bout time you two got back," said the vampire.

"I'm sorry, were you lonely?" asked Xander.

"How do you feel?" asked Tara before the boys could get into it again.

"Oh, fine," Spike told her. "Chest wound, broken leg—gives me warm fuzzies for home life with Angelus." Nonetheless, he got to his feet. "How about gettin' to the mojo, wi- Tara?"

Tara took out Giles' map of the caves and performed a location spell again. This time, she used a black marker to physically mark the map where the spell said the beast was. Then she ended the spell. Spike crouched down by her.

"Assuming the Watcher's right—and that nothing's changed the caves since he drew this up—beastie's close to Adam's old stomping grounds. I'm pretty sure I can get us here from there, but it's not an easy trek. I'll warn you about that straight off."

"We can do it," said Xander. "It's for Buffy."

Tara, meanwhile, had removed another item from her pack: an amulet with a wide metal disk hanging at the end of a chain. A deep red stone was set in the center of the disk with writing carved around it. For some reason, it made the hair on the back of Xander's neck stand straight up. Spike whistled low.

"Haven't seen one of those in a long time," said the vampire. "Should've brought it up before. We could've used it."

"What is it?" asked Xander.

Tara was looking at the amulet, her face somber and not a little afraid. "It's called the Charm of Morgause," the witch explained. "What it does is augment a witch's power, strengthen it."

Xander's eyebrows leaped. "At the risk of agreeing with Spike, why didn't you get it before we got our collective butts kicked by the Antysaurus?"

"It's the most potent object I own, and the most dangerous," said Tara. "Even Willow didn't know I had it, and I'm glad she didn't. It makes a witch more powerful, yes, but . . . it addicts. Fast. Like crack for witches. My m-mother gave it to me, with the strict instructions that I never use it except in the direst of circumstances. I've never used it. I hope I won't have to now, but I have a feeling I will. I've only worn it once before, in fact."

"When was that?" asked Spike.

Tara looked at him probingly before answering. "After my mother's funeral. I wore it and sat at her graveside all night, along with the ingredients for a spell that would've brought her back to me."

Complete silence followed this proclamation. Finally, Xander broke it.

"Tara, if you don't want to do this—"

"I have to, Xander," she interrupted. "The situation is desperate enough. That beast took Buffy down. It nearly killed all of us. I-I don't think we can do this without powerful help. With this amulet, I can immobilize it long enough for you and Spike to get the blood and kill the beast. I have to t-trust myself to be able to handle this."

Xander set a hand on her shoulder. "Okay. Let's do this."

Tara put the amulet around her neck, and the three descended into the cave.

***

Note to self, thought Xander Harris some two hours later. When Spike says, "It's not an easy trek," you can believe him.

It felt like they'd been in the caves forever. Sunlight was a vague memory, the outside just a dream. If the dark and the cold and the endless walking weren't enough, there was the fact that their little trek was occasionally interrupted by the need to climb either up or down terrain that no sane human would attempt without proper lighting and equipment. Both Xander and Tara had their share of bruises and cuts.

And then there were the interruptions. Spike suddenly pulled up short, listening, and grabbed Tara and yelled, "Out of the way! Now!"

Xander found a convenient boulder to jump up on and flattened himself against the wall. Spike had hauled Tara up onto a low ledge and pinned her body to the wall with his. The sound of babbling and thumping Spike had picked up with his vampiric senses became audible to the humans.

All at once, the cave was flooded with foot-tall imps, running, panicked, through the caves. For their size, they were nasty little creatures, with long, sharp teeth and claws, and they didn't appear to care what got in their way. Several of their number fell and were subsequently trampled.

Finally, they were gone. Spike stayed where he was for another moment, watching and listening, and then released Tara and jumped down. Xander and Tara followed his lead.

"Damned Antyliok's got the entire underworld in an uproar," grumbled Spike.

He didn't seem far wrong. This was the fourth time small, stampeding demons had forced the three to seek safety. Insignificant things, mostly content to live belowground and escape the Slayer's notice. Xander guessed they were an all-you-can-eat buffet to an Antyliok, though—particularly a wounded, angry one. He fervently hoped at least some of these creatures had fought back.

"At least those were better than the spider things," offered Tara.

Spike gave her a look. "Oh, yeah, real cuties. Their preferred food is small humans. Since they don't get much of that nowadays, though, they make do by eating the weakest of their own kind—the runts of their litters, the wounded or sick, and the old."

"She didn't say she wanted one as a pet, Spike," Xander snapped.

"Speaking of which, they eat kittens, too." The vampire gave them a shark-like grin. "Moving on, then."

"Could-could we take five? Please?" Tara requested. "For some reason, I feel like I've been walking for hours."

"We've got time," said Xander, checking his illuminated watch. "How about one of your yummy 'All-Natural Organic' nutrition bars, Tara?"

After a rest and a bite to eat (for Tara and Xander, at least), they moved on. Deeper and deeper into the cave system they went, through natural caves and ones that looked like they'd been carved out. Tara shuddered as they passed what Spike explained had once been a sacrificial ground for the demons of the Valequin clan. Two more rest stops, another exodus of gibbering imps, a steep climb, and an attack by demon bats later, they found themselves in front of a burned-out bank of computers.

"This is about where your spell said it'd be," said Spike. "Guess we've got to track it ourselves now. Unless Tara'd like to do another location spell."

Tara shook her head. "If I can avoid doing any magic until we fight the Antyliok, I'll be that much stronger. I'm exhausted physically, and that's going to sap enough of my strength as is."

"Time to play 'Follow the Vamp's Nose,'" announced Xander. Spike gave him a dirty look, but obliged by opening his senses.

"I know that over that way's an old Initiative tunnel," the vampire said, cocking his head to the right. "Those were all filled in when Uncle Sam left town. But over here . . ." He trailed off, heading to the left and another tunnel. "I can smell something foul down there. Wouldn't swear it's the Antyliok, but it's definitely demonic."

"Considering what it eats, sounds like as good a lead as any," said Xander.

They all moved cautiously into the cave. Soon, the smell Spike had spoken of was obvious to even Xander and Tara.

"Foul as death down here," commented Spike.

"At least you don't have to breathe," choked out Xander. It was almost overwhelming.

Then the flashlight picked out the reason for the stench: dead demons strewn throughout the cave. They were small things, probably coming no higher than Tara's waist when they stood up. Not that it was easy to tell; they were, for the most part, in multiple pieces.

"I think I'm gonna puke," moaned Tara, holding her stomach.

"Puke, and I'll puke with you," agreed Xander.

A roar reverberated through the caves, taking both their minds off their nausea.

"Sounds like our buddy," murmured Xander.

"Got a plan, witch?" asked Spike.

"N-not so much," said Tara. "I can hold it still, but not forever. You and Xander will need to get in and out as quickly as possible. Also, even though I can immobilize it for the most part, it won't exactly be frozen. Be careful."

"You'll need to get the blood," Spike told Xander. "I'll see what I can do about keeping it from killing you in the meantime."

Wisely, Xander refrained from making any smart comments. He figured this was not the best time to be provoking Spike.

The roars of the Antyliok grew louder. Tara clutched the amulet around her neck and began to murmur.

"Earth, wind, fire, and rain," she chanted, "elements, bend thee to my will, bind thyselves around this foul beast, bind it, hold it, make it still."

Both the vampire and the young man could feel the power gathering about Tara as they walked on. She continued chanting her spell, and the sense of power grew exponentially as she did so. Xander pulled a lidded container from his pack.

A few paces later, it was there. The Antyliok stood among the ruins of yet more demons, gorging itself on their corpses. Xander and Spike were gratified to note that it had gained even more wounds since they'd last seen it. As their light fell on the beast, it turned toward them, growling.

"Bind it, hold it, make it still, bind it, hold it, make it still, bind it, hold it, make it still!" Tara chanted, her voice growing louder and louder until she flung out both arms toward the beast. "Stabat!"

The beast had been in the act of crouching, preparing to lunge at them, when Tara's spell hit it. It froze briefly, and then, as if off-balance, tipped over to one side.

"Now!" shouted Spike. He and Xander leaped into action. "The chest, Harris!"

Spike leaped onto the beast's side and grabbed its left front leg, opening up the chest to Xander. The beast was still moving slightly, but not enough to build up any real force. Xander used the blade of his halberd to open up the wound on its chest further, and as the blood came flowing out, the young man collected it in the container he'd brought along. 

The beast gave a sudden jerk. "Needing help here," grunted Spike.

"Stabat!" cried Tara again. The amulet around her neck was glowing, and so, eerily, were her eyes. Her whole body shuddered with the power she was channeling. "Stabat!"

"Got it!" yelled Xander. He capped the container and turned away from the beast.

The Antyliok snarled and jerked again as Tara grew weaker, and without any warning, its tail came whipping around its body. Xander screamed.

"Xander?" gasped Tara, barely holding on.

"It stung him! In the arse!" yelled Spike.

"STABAT!" Tara screamed at the beast, and then she dodged in. Her spell had struck both the beast and Spike with the last burst of her strength, and both were immobile as Tara cupped her hands under the flow of the beast's blood. She carried it over to Xander, who was writhing in pain on the cave floor. "Drink, Xander! Drink!"

She held her cupped hands to Xander's mouth, forcing her fingers between his lips, and Xander choked down the viscous brown fluid.

"Spike, be unbound," she cried.

The vampire shook off his immobility just before the beast started moving again. From under his coat, he pulled out Buffy's sword and pinwheeled it so the blade was pointed downward. Then he plunged it into the beast's ruined left eye and through its head.

"That's what you get for hurtin' my Slayer," growled Spike, and he leaped away just before the Antyliok began to dissolve. He ran over to Tara and Xander. "Up! Both of you!" He hauled Tara roughly to her feet and tucked her under one arm, then reached down and yanked Xander up by the back of his shirt. The three of them stumbled away as the fluid that had once comprised the Antyliok flooded the cave floor.

As soon as they were clear, Spike let go of the humans. Tara fell to the floor, heaving up the contents of her stomach, and Xander went down on his knees with a moan of pain.

"So," said the vampire. "Ready for the trek back to civilization?"

***

Willow stood at the threshold of the living room, watching as the Summers sisters slept. Buffy's face was tight with pain, even while unconscious. Dawn was curled up at the foot of the couch with her sister's feet in her lap and had dozed off there.

The redhead glanced out the window at the fading light, her stomach churning. Her face set in determination as she turned back to the dining room and collected her jacket.

Anya had fallen asleep with her head on the table. Willow's jacket caught on the edge of the chair she'd thrown it over, jerking the chair and making a sudden noise.

"What?" exclaimed Anya, head popping up. She looked around in confusion and found Willow putting on her jacket. "Where are you going?"

"I've . . . got something to do," hedged Willow. "Be back in a bit."

Anya looked her up and down. "You're going to use magic, aren't you?"

Willow froze. She really hadn't expected Anya to pick up on her intentions so quickly.

"Well, not really . . . it's just . . . Buffy's . . . I've got to do something, and I thought . . ." Willow trailed off. "I've got to do something, Anya. You were right: I am a powerful witch. If I have to use my power to save Buffy . . ."

Anya glanced at the clock. "There's still time, you know. Xander's—I'm sure they're on their way. I mean, they've got to be. And Buffy's still running a fever, right?"

"Yeah, last time I checked. . ."

"Then she's still fighting the venom. She's the Slayer; she'll probably fight it for longer than your usual human, and we did clean the wound."

"But they should be back by now," whispered Willow, giving voice to her deepest fear. "I've got the worst feeling, Anya. What if they need my help? I've got to do this, don't you see?"

Anya looked disturbed, but held steady. "But you'll be risking your soul. Do you really want to do that?"

Willow set her jaw. "For Buffy, I will. My soul, my life, everything."

"We all remember how well it went last time you did that," Anya pointed out. Willow flinched visibly. "There's still time. Why risk going all Darth Vader if you don't have to? Buffy wouldn't want that."

Willow glared at Anya and seemed set to say something, but bit it back at the last moment. She turned and stalked into the living room, where she sat down in a chair facing Dawn and Buffy. Anya watched her for a few moments, decided Willow wasn't up to any magic, and began to brew more tea for Buffy.

***

Xander and Tara had managed to drag themselves as far as Adam's bank of computers before they'd collapsed again. Spike, in a sudden burst of curiosity, had wandered off to scout out a nearby tunnel.

"Think there's another way out," the vampire announced as he returned. "Bit of a climb, but a lot shorter. If I'm right, it'll bring us to the surface pretty close to Sunnydale, too."

Xander forced himself to his feet, swearing vehemently enough to impress Spike. "You know," the young man gasped, "I seem to recall specifically stating that I'm not putting up with this sort of crap anymore. Getting stung in the butt is somewhere between my bout with mystically-induced syphilis and being turned into Dracula's man-bitch on my personal list of Blows to Xander's Dignity. Tara, you okay?"

The witch didn't answer. She was deathly pale. Both Xander (rather painfully) and Spike stooped down near her.

"Tara?" asked Xander again.

Spike leaned forward to sniff her. After that, he picked up one arm, which she'd bandaged after cutting it on a sharp piece of rock earlier, peeled back the bandaging, and tasted her blood.

Xander grabbed him. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing, snacking on Tara?"

"Diagnosis is: low blood sugar, you moron," snapped Spike. "Give her one of those bloody awful nutrition bars and a little time, and she should be all right. That spell drained her good and proper."

Without apologizing, Xander pulled the last nutrition bar out of the pack and opened it. Tara feebly took it from his grasp and began to eat. After a few minutes, she started to regain her color.

"Spike," she murmured, "take the amulet off my neck."

Spike, though nonplused, nonetheless complied. The chain flatly refused to be pulled over Tara's head.

"Snap the chain if you have to," the witch urged, her voice edged with panic. "Do it quickly, Spike!"

The vampire gave it a good yank, breaking the chain. As soon as it was off her neck, though, Tara underwent a strange personality reversal. She stared at the amulet, snarled like an animal, and leaped at Spike, trying to take it back. Xander grabbed her.

"Tara, calm down! What's gotten into you?" he asked.

"I've got her Precious," said Spike, suddenly comprehending. He tucked it away in his pocket, and Tara relaxed a little.

"Thank you," she breathed. "Keep it out of my sight. Don't let me have it back, even if I ask for it. In fact, sell it. It's worth a small fortune on the black market. That or destroy it, I don't care."

"I'm suddenly understanding why you didn't want to use that thing," said Xander after a moment's silence. "Where's this exit, Spike?"

"This way." The vampire stood, and Xander and Tara helped each other to their feet. Spike led them away down the tunnel they'd initially come down, then swung off into a different one. Both Xander and Tara felt a change in the air—a bit fresher, a bit more moist.

Ten minutes later, though, one thing had become obvious.

"We're not gonna make it," panted Xander, sinking down with Tara. He pulled the container of Antyliok blood out of his bag. "Spike, you need to take this to Buffy. Get there as fast as you can. Tara and I are just holding you up."

Spike accepted the container with some trepidation. "You realize that if I leave you here and you get killed by some nasty, I'll get staked?"

"You don't save Buffy, you get staked," stated Xander. "Go. You say you love her, so save her life, already."

"Been fun," Spike said, and then he was gone.

Although his leg and chest pained him, Spike was still faster than any human. The rough, increasingly upward-slanted terrain posed little problem for his preternatural strength, and in less than an hour, he'd gained the surface. Then he was off and running.

Running through the fields at the outskirts of Sunnydale, running across the college campus, running into the town itself. He made a short detour to his crypt. Clem stepped out, munching on cheese balls, just as he got there.

"Spike, man," the demon said. "I was worried about you. You know there's an Antyliok around these parts?"

"Heard that," said Spike in passing. He grabbed his motorcycle from its hiding place. "Poker next Wednesday, then?"

"You bring the kittens. Hey, did somebody blow up your bedroom?"

Clem never got an answer as Spike sped off toward the Summers home.

Willow was pacing on the front porch when he appeared. "Spike!" she cried, running to meet him. "Did you get—?"

"Right here." Spike held the container aloft. "She still hanging in there?"

"Hurry!" Willow practically pushed the vampire inside.

Vaguely, Spike heard Anya and Dawn's voices as he made a beeline for the couch. Buffy was moaning and writhing in pain, not even fully conscious. Anya grabbed the container from him, opened it, and pressed it against the Slayer's lips. Buffy tried to push her away.

"God's sake, don't soft-sell it, Demon Girl," Spike growled. He pushed Anya aside, took the container, and shoved it hard against Buffy's mouth. "Drink, you stupid bitch!"

This time, Buffy's lips parted, and Spike poured in the blood. She choked on it.

"Careful that she doesn't barf on you, Spike," warned Anya. "It could be ugly."

Spike waited for Buffy to stop choking, then forced the blood into her mouth again. This time, she opened her eyes, took the container with her own hand, and drank the blood in several determined gulps.

"Guh," was the Slayer's only comment as her face wrinkled in disgust.

Dawn joyously knelt by Buffy's head. "You're gonna be okay, Buffy." The teen fetched her sister's water and helped Buffy drink it.

Willow, a bit teary-eyed, seemed to share Dawn's joy. Naturally, it was Anya who asked, "Where's Xander?"

At that, Willow looked up. "Where is Xander? And Tara?"

"Back in the caves," Spike said offhandedly, still watching Buffy. "Tara was all magicked out, and Xander got himself stung in the arse, so they figured they were slowing me down."

"They're hurt?" demanded Willow.

"In the butt?" demanded Anya.

"We got him the blood, don't worry." Spike looked at Willow and Anya and sighed in resignation. "You're gonna make me go back for them, aren't you?"

"Yes!" said Willow and Anya together.

Grumbling, Spike hauled himself to his feet. He cast one last glance at the recovering Slayer, Dawn beside her, and went out to find Xander and Tara.

EPILOGUE FORTHCOMING


	5. Epilogue

Epilogue

Buffy stepped out onto her back porch, breathing deeply of the night air. The air in Sunnydale was fresh and pure compared to her old home in L.A. If only it weren't for the creatures that inhabited that night air . . .

She shook off the thought. Sunnydale was relatively safe at the moment, as the Antyliok had scared into hiding the demons it hadn't killed outright. That meant Buffy could safely take a night off of patrol. As she was still recovering her strength, the respite was welcome.

Her hands passed over her belly. The sting wound had diminished greatly in the hours after she'd taken the antivenin, and in the day since, it had all but disappeared. If Buffy pressed hard, she still felt the soreness, but overall, she felt one hundred percent better. She turned her eyes up to the stars.

"Hello, Spike," she said without looking down.

The vampire stepped out of the shrubbery. " 'Lo, Summers. Feeling better?"

"Feeling worlds better." She looked at him. "Thank you, Spike. You didn't have to do what you did for me, but . . ." She trailed off, not certain of what she'd wanted to say. "Thank you."

Spike approached, stopping at the foot of the porch stairs. "How're the whelp and the witch?"

"Tara's fine. She called today, said she'd slept about fourteen hours and that every muscle in her body, plus a few she's sure weren't there two days ago, hurts. Xander's about the same. Anya's prognosis for his butt is optimistic, though."

"Never met a wound that suited someone so perfectly," Spike commented. Buffy looked at him levelly. "Not to say both he and Tara weren't gettin' close to bein' impressive down in those tunnels."

"They were impressive," said Buffy firmly. "Everyone was—Tara, Xander, Anya, Willow, Dawn, and you." She looked him in the eye. "I'm very grateful."

Spike cocked his head. "How grateful?"

Buffy didn't take the bait. She just continued to look at him, standing firm. Spike moved up one step, then two, bringing them eye-to-eye.

"I keep replaying your little break-up speech in my mind," he told her. "Every word. I've got it memorized. One thing that occurs to me is—you never said you don't love me, just that you can't. Now, I figure that means either that somehow, you're constitutionally incapable of loving someone like me—and we both know that's not true—or that you think you can't allow yourself to love me."

Buffy still didn't speak. She kept her eyes on Spike's.

After a moment, he continued. "After all this, Slayer, you owe me this much: look me in the eye and tell me why you won't allow yourself to love me. Tell me the truth."

Buffy's eyes flicked back up to the stars, and there was silence. Spike didn't move. They stood in their positions, frozen that way, for what seemed an interminable period of time.

Finally, the Slayer's eyes met Spike's again, and there was moisture in them.

"Tell me I'll never have to kill you, Spike," she said, her voice soft. "Look me in the eye and swear to me it'll never come to that between us."

And Spike could say nothing, because he knew damn well what the truth of the matter was. He knew what the odds were of both of them coming out of their relationship alive. He also recalled what Tara had told him in the tunnels: that while he could live with that fact, Buffy couldn't.

For now.

Silently, he backed away. As he reached the edge of the Summers property, though, he turned back.

"Tara said she took you out for ice cream after you broke up with me," he said. "Tell me, what did you have?"

Buffy's face softened into a rueful smile. "A 'Chocolate Insanity' sundae. That's a scoop of chocolate ice cream on top of a brownie, topped with hot fudge, whipped cream, and a Hershey's Kiss. I ate all of mine and half of Tara's."

Spike grinned smugly. "Good. See you, Slayer."

"Goodbye, Spike," said Buffy. He left, and she returned her eyes to the stars.

***

Note: All B/S flames shall be used to bake brownies and heat fudge topping. I says 'em like I sees 'em, folks.

Note II: Special thanks to Tanja for help with the Latin. I emphasize, however, that she is **not** to blame for the woefully cheesy spell Tara uses in the fourth part.

Note III: Please do not look too closely at the timing in this fic, and if you do, recall all the times that the Jossverse has gone from day to night in five seconds and give poor little me a break.


End file.
